


Lovely

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Collars, M/M, Master/Pet, Puppy Play, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 08:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Lindir’s a good puppy.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Lindir
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Lovely

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“The hermit crab is a remarkable creature.”

Lindir quite agrees, even though, according to this particular narrator, _everything_ is a remarkable creature. She’s still, technically, right. Their world is a fascinating place. It’s beautiful on camera. A sweeping view of a spotless beach scrolls down, and then waves wash over the screen, and suddenly they’re underwater. Lindir watches a school of fish swirl aimless around the frame. 

He lets out a long breath and closes his eyes. The lilting music of the documentary lulls him into a peaceful, almost-sleep that Lindir has to consciously defy. He feels his mouth opening in a yawn, the sound ripping out of his throat before he can stop it, but then he forces his eyes open and tries to straighten up. He’s slumped against his master’s legs, soaking in the pleasant tingling of body heat, cheek cushioned on his boyfriend’s thigh. The fabric beneath his skin is soft and smooth, making for a perfect pillowslip. The thick rug below his knees is equally as plush, though he’s wearing his flesh-coloured kneepads just in case. Those kneepads and his collar are his only clothing. But the house is kept warm, and he doesn’t mind being exposed, because Lindir is most comfortable when he’s at his most vulnerable. He feels utterly _safe_ in Elrond’s loving care. When Lindir is like this, playing the role of pet rather than lover, he can truly unwind. The worries of the day ebb away, all anxieties forgotten. His world is a simple one. All he has to do is be a good puppy for his beloved Elrond.

Currently, all that involves is sitting still and being pet. Lindir _loves_ being pet. He loves the soft scratch of Elrond’s blunt nails along his scalp, tenderly massaging him, and the way Elrond’s long fingers tangle idly through the thick strands of his hair. Lindir always brushes his hair meticulously before bedtime, then again in the morning, precisely for this reason: he wants it to be smooth and pleasant for Elrond to play with. He savours each stroke, each little touch, and every so often, lets out a quiet moan. Nothing feels quite so good as his lover’s hands on him. Even when it isn’t sexual, it’s still _sensual_, and Lindir adores every second. That’s why he won’t fall asleep. He wants to enjoy every moment that he has with Elrond. 

The documentary finally reaches its end. Credits roll across the screen, and Lindir frowns, almost whimpering, because he doesn’t want it to be over. He’s had such a good time. He feels so _relaxed_. Pliant. He slowly turns his face up to Elrond. He’s ready to do anything else that Elrond asks. 

Elrond smiles gently down at him and rifles through his hair. Elrond purrs over the harmonic piano song, “Good boy, my Lindir. You have been _very_ good.” Lindir smiles tiredly, delighted with the praise. It adds to his dizziness: his haze of near disorienting pleasure. “You sat through that entire thing without any fuss. What have I done to deserve such a wonderful pet?”

Lindir nuzzles happily into Elrond’s thigh. It wasn’t hard. He could sit at Elrond’s feet for _hours_. It’s his favourite headspace to slip into, his favourite seat in the whole house. Elrond bends down to scratch beneath his chin, asking, “But you must be growing tired now. Do you want to sleep?”

Lindir stares dreamily up at Elrond: he wants to do whatever Elrond wants of him. If Elrond wanted him to get up and jog laps around the coffee table, he’d do it without complaint. He just wants to be a _good boy._

Elrond seems to consider his option, then decides, “It’s time for your treat, my love. Will you fetch your leash for me?”

Lindir nods. He moves out of Elrond’s hold, going slowly, pausing to stretch, knowing Elrond will allow him that. Parts of him have fallen asleep, though Elrond paused halfway through the film to rub his legs and arms, keeping his circulation going. The kneepads certainly make it easier to crawl. He crosses the living room on all fours, plodding over to the fuzzy dog bed in the corner. It holds a number of his toys, and his leash tightly bundled up in the middle. Lindir ducks down to pick it up in his mouth. He doesn’t mind the chalky taste, because it’s just another part of this game of his. He carries it obediently over to his master, where he lays it down in Elrond’s lap. Elrond pets him for it, murmuring, “Good boy,” again. 

Elrond brushes Lindir’s hair aside, then carefully fastens the collar to his leash. When he climbs off the couch, Lindir’s ready. Elrond guides him to the bedroom, and Lindir eagerly follows, wanting any and every treat that Elrond could ever give him.


End file.
